All she wants to do at the moment is talk, talk, talk. The talk ends up as a fight. And I’m a lover not a fighter. So I don’t want to talk. I want to read and watch TV. I want to listen to the football or watch a three-and-a-half-hour Romanian movie set in one room about a man who doesn’t die. I do not wish to converse. I particularly do not wish conversing about her longing for another baby.
I do not want another baby. Maybe in about 20 years time, with a younger model. That's the great bit about being a man. I mean, look at my father, he's almost 60 and has just become a dad again for the fifth time by a woman Indigo's age. It didn't go down too well with Rosie when we pointed out the bouncing baby with the blonde hair was her aunty.
To keep Indigo quiet (and this has generally worked for two years, although is now becoming a little trickier as she reaches the end of her fertile years) I tell her “not just yet”.
She accused me of “stringing her along” the other day, which is simply not true. I tell her I barely scrape through each month in the black and that sometimes keeps her quiet. But now though, she’s remembered my Granny gave me a lump sum, a few thousand quid that I’m keeping for a rainy day. Now she tells me if I cared for her happiness I wouldn’t mind delving into that to help fund another child.
So now I've got a new one. I tell her I’m insecure about my fathering skills, that I shouted at Rosie once or twice when she was younger and wouldn’t stop crying. Indigo says “that’s perfectly normal and I will make sure I have a childminder on hand so you never have to be left holding the baby by yourself.” She has said the following:
* She will do all the extra housework as she will be at home with the baby.
* She will do all the night time shift work (she always did anyway).
* She will ensure more help and support from childcare providers (says she didn’t know people when Rosie was a baby)
* She will not expect a penny more than what I give her now.
* She has enough money saved to take a few months off work.
Not convinced. I know only too well I’ll end up having my TV viewing interrupted. One tries not to think about it as it is so terribly dreary. However, if I do chance to put my mind to it I realise:
* I love diving into Lake Nat all day
* I love reading my books
* I love reading my newspapers
* I love thinking about my career and how to progress it
* I love to be by myself
* I do not want screaming kids around me disturbing me while I read my hefty tome on ancient Greece
* I particularly do not wish to become involved in dirty nappy changes
* I love picking my nose
* I love farting
* Rosie is fine going through life without a sibling
If Indigo leaves me I’ll get my old school buddy’s mum who owns Mischon de Reya to fight my case in the courts so I get to keep Rosie. And then of course I’ll hire a nanny so I don’t have to do any childcare.
Most of the time I adeptly manage to keep this boring matter firmly under the rug. However, once a month – it’s all tied in with the moon – the issue comes out and spreads its negative dust all around the house. But I must stand firm and remember how babies have a habit of draining Lake Me. Its reserves are currently high but it’s taken four long years to get them back and I have no plans to change this now.
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